


Pieces of You, Pieces of Me

by Razzledazzy



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Cop-Johnny, Drabbles, Fluff and Angst, Hellfire Gang, agents of mayhem - Freeform, assuming johnny picked the reboot ending where he's a cop that leads to like, i just found these in my writing folder and said 'might as well', pre-gat out of hell and post-gat out of hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 14:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13860021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Razzledazzy/pseuds/Razzledazzy
Summary: Life's never sunshine for Johnny Gat, despite the fact that he chose this ending himself.





	1. Jacket

The flaking brown stain crinkled as she curled up into a ball in the corner of a dark, shabby apartment in Steelport. Going back through the plane had been a desperate attempt to see if she could grab Johnny and get out. The only thing she’d been able to find was his jacket.   
  
There’s no way he’d have left it, he had barely taken it off since she got it for him a few winters ago.   
  
_"What do you expect dumbass? We live in Stilwater. It snows in winter.”_

_“It wasn’t this fuckin’ cold last winter.”_

_"Yeah, it was."_

_"How would you know? You were in jail, Boss."_

_"What? You don't think we had windows in jail? Anything's an improvement on that dumb Hawaiian shirt you've been wearing lately."_

_"Ouch boss, not the shirt."_

_"What kind of gangster wears a Hawaiian shirt anyway?"_

_"It was the only purple thing I had clean on laundry day, and they're cheap to replace."_  
  
She wiped her eyes with her arm, smearing a patch of dirt across her cheek. She needed a shower, but she couldn't force herself to stand.

Why? Why hadn’t he just come with them? It didn’t make any sense to stay behind and fight. So why did he?   
  
_“This coat’s fuckin’ magic Boss, bloodstains come out like they were never even there.”  
_

_“You didn’t think I’d let you run around looking like a butcher did you?”_   
  
What was left of Johnny’s blood was already mostly gone from the outside of the coat, it had long since dried and flaked off. But the inside lining was still red, it hadn’t even dried where it had been crushed against her chest like a sick security blanket. Morbidly her fingers pressed against the soft lining watching a tiny bit of it smear onto her fingertips. It was so thin it didn’t look like blood, it looked more like lip gloss.   
  
Curling her fingers into a fist so she didn’t have to look at it, she shoved them Johnny’s…. no, _her jacket_ pocket, pausing as she felt cool metal against her knuckles.   
  
Pulling it out, Roxy turned over one of Johnny’s spare shades in her hands. They were the ones with the scratch near the top of the left lens. She wanted to say it was the pair he’d scratched a week ago when she’d dared him to outdo Shaundi at Dance Dance Revolution. A small shaky smile raised the corners of her mouth. Johnny was a terrible dancer but tried to win anyway; he ended up slipping and taking a handrail to the face. They'd laughed their asses off at him, and he took it like a champ.   
  
Slowly she unfolded them, setting them on her nose. They slid down and she adjusted the grips so they wouldn’t fall off her face.   
  
The Syndicate was going to regret taking Johnny from her, every single person that had ever worn a Morningstar was going to pay for it in blood- starting with Phillipe Loren.   


	2. Purple Dye

The biggest, emptiest window looking out into space is where he found her. Oddly, it had been Asha who eventually pointed him in the right direction. Back when they all lived on the ship it hadn’t been half as hard to find her. Damn giant mothership had too many hallways.   
  
“What are you doing down here, Boss?” he asked, kneeling carefully on his good knee to sit next to her.   
  
“Nothing, for once. Just takin' a bit of time to stop and breathe, y'know? You’d think I’d have a better handle on this ‘Empress’ thing after being in charge of a country, but it's so completely different from running the Saints or a country,” she said softly, scooting over so she could lean against his shoulder.

Johnny had seriously thought everyone was pulling his leg when they told him someone had thought it was a good idea to put Roxanne O'Neil in charge of an entire country, but then again, it wasn't much different from the way the Saints had instantly rallied around her before she was old enough to drink. They must have bent the rules for it to happen, Roxy definitely wasn't over the age of thirty-five when she was elected. Unless he'd been in that tank for a lot longer than he'd though.   
  
“I wish I’d seen it, not that this isn’t stunning, the cape really ties it together, but-” he said gesturing to her formal attire. It had been a speech day, she hated public speaking, but Asha and Shaundi took the time to hide as many knives and guns in her outfit as they could in order to put Roxy more at ease. They had even started designing new outfits together so they could fit more in.   
  
She elbowed him playfully, “Shove off, I’m sure Matt or Kinzie have videos of my uh- coronation thingy, starts with an I."   
  
“Inauguration?"   
  
"Yeah, that! Or my State of the Union addresses, I was a pretty good President before I got the entire world atomized,” she said, looking out into the empty space outside the window.   
  
“I thought we agreed that wasn’t your fault,” he took her hand away from the window and held it in his own. “You solved world hunger remember.”

She shook her head, purple hair reflecting the starlight. She looked the same as she had when he'd been taken from that plane, give or take a few years and scars. It was comforting to see that not everything had changed, even though earth was gone.   
  
“Yeah, well, I knew what it was like to be hungry. Plus it would have undercut a lot of crime and human rights problems. Once you’re not struggling to feed refugees you can actually solve the problems making them refugees. But you’re forgetting my crowning achievement."   
  
"If solving world hunger wasn’t it, what was?” he asked, eyes curious behind his sunglasses.   
  
“I called the Queen a cunt once,” she laughed.   
  
His eyebrows shot up, “Really?”   
  
“Yep, it’s something I swore I’d do as a wee angry Irish-American kid. How was I supposed to not? She took it well, said ‘no one had dared speak to her that way in years’," she put air quotes around the last part of her statment.    
  
Smiling and shaking his head, he pulled her closer, “You’re unbelievable.”   
  
“Love you too, Johnny,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.


	3. Halos

Hell wasn't anything like he thought it would be, even though he'd taken to it with a single-mindedness that would rival god. 

The wings, now that was crazy, but useful. He needed to get the Boss back, he couldn't think about anything else. Not even the flaming sword or the talking guns could distract him. Here he was, surrounded by all the sin the world had to offer and the only thing he cared about was seeing her again.

Then he was faced with a choice. 

He could go back, take the boss, resume their lives, or go on- see Aisha again. But he wasn't the same many anymore. Aisha had died knowing him as a small time Stillwater gangster that got her killed. She deserved better.

Him and the boss, they were a packaged deal. 

He could find a new home for the Saints, a world they could thrive on, but that wasn't fair. There were too many dead Saints. The people that were part of the team now, no matter how much Johnny grew to care for them, weren't the same. It wasn't home.

Then there was another option, a complete do-over. 

The Saints would end, but everyone would be alive. The earth would still exist. The guilt that consumed Roxy's waking hours could be erased. Everyone would have a second chance at life. 

The choice was easy, after that.

 


	4. Throwing Knives

“You still on that?” Johnny drawled, catching the butt of his knife in his palm every time he tossed it up.   
  
“Like fuck all I am,” Vivian sneered back, flicking her red knives at the target, most of them hit the wood at the wrong angle and clattered to the floor. One lonely knife stuck in the target at the end of the bar. Johnny could relate.

He turned his head and smiled, she sounded more like Roxy when she sneered, closer to the way her voice had been after being on the ventilator- after the explosion. He didn't know why he was the only one that remembered, even if he was a fed now. It seemed like all the former Saints wanted to orbit around each other in this new reality, chasing each other and pulling people into their orbit. Vivian, Johnny had to stop himself from calling her Roxy in his head, had even pulled in the DeWynter twins as her head lieutenants. 

She called herself the Brimstone Queen of the Hellfire gang now. Her accent was thicker, and her hair was a vibrant red instead of purple, but sometimes it was enough.

“Like shit I can’t throw knives, I’ll show you- ya bloody gobshite,” she mumbled to herself.    
  
“It would only take a few minutes for me to show you how, Sprinkles."    
  
The nickname was out before he even thought about it, it was something they did at the district- apparently nicknames were a cop thing.   
  
Her red lips popped open as her jaw dropped, turning and loosing a knife in Johnny’s direction. A moment of time hung in the air as she realized there was no clatter after. The red knife stuck fast, rooted proudly in Johnny’s shoulder.   
  
Her mouth was still hanging open, “You whoring bastard, why’d you go and cock it up throwin’ shapes and running your-” 

Johnny waved her off, bending over and shaking. He was laughing.    
  
“You’re off your fucking head, stop that! I stabbed you!” Vivian yelled, her entire face turning red. Clicking her way across the floor in her heels, she pulled him back upright.     
  
Johnny leaned forward to kiss her squarely on her blood red lips, stopping her before she could rail at him in Gaeilge. The hand that had moved to grab her knife back missed, falling instead to his chest.    
  
After a few seconds, she pulled away. “You’re going to be the death of me, Johnny Gat.”   


"Where's the fun in that?" He laughed when she punched his other shoulder. Only she could stab him twice in the same place in two different realities. At least this time he hadn't made a joke about Freckle Bitches. 


	5. A Bit of Both of Us

"Well, I always knew that this would go arseways,” Vivian said with a short laugh, blood bubbling out of the corner of her mouth. A lung had gone then. A shame, that. She’d had a pretty nice singing voice in her own opinion.    
  
"Oh, Johnny boy, don’t look so sad. If I couldn’t survive one shot I’d be fuckin’ useless,” she squirmed under his hands as Johnny put pressure on the wound, “I’d rather it not’ve happened while I was up the duff, but…”   
  
The knobhead had lost his sunglasses at some point, so even though it was dark she could see how wide and panicked his eyes were. 

“I don’t understand, I told everyone to hold their fire,” he growled.   
  
“It didn’t come from one of yours,” she reached up to touch his cheek, “Shhh, a mhuirnín, it wasn’t your fault.” An ambulance had already been called, and now Johnny had probably lost all his credibility as an officer by the way he’d reacted. Those who hadn’t known before had certainly guessed by now that they were involved.    
  
He tried to start again, “You don’t understand-”

Vivian she shook her head.    
  
"I said it wasn’t your fault, a ghrá, and if you blame yourself again I’m going to kick you ass over elbows. So don’t look so sad. You won’t be rid of me that easily.”    
  
She looked him in the eye until he nodded reluctantly, “You’re not the only one I’m worried about.”    
  
Her breath caught in her chest. Jezzy was the only one of her gang still here, Luz and the rest of the gang had gone after the shooter. It was pretty common knowledge among the ranks that she was pregnant. Whoever the shooter had been, she didn’t envy them, especially if either of the DeWynters got a hold of them.    
  
Oddly, she felt like she almost recognized the people arguing by Johnny’s car, “A rún mo chroí, I think I’m going into shock. Kinzie and Matt are both arguing on the same side of an issue against Asha.”    
  
Johnny froze above her, eyes darting over to the group.    
  
"God, my head hurts,” she said, accent thinning.   
  
“Vivian… Boss?” Johnny questioned quietly.    
  
“Ach, I don’t know,” she shook her head, her hand clasped over Johnny’s, her thicker accent was back though her eyes were still scrunched up in pain. “Mo shíorghrá, it really isn’t your fault. None of it was. You need to let it go. Things will turn out okay. You’ll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably write more of this whenever I replay Saint's Row, which is only my favorite game series of all time. Though the new chapters might not be linear in time, so any updates will mean a shuffle of chapter order.
> 
> Check out my profile for links you can find me at.


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